


Shots In The Dark

by APizzaInTime



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A bit of foreplay, But strictly in the business sense, F/M, Fareeha is a toddler, I don't normally write stuff like this but I thought I'd give it a shot, NSFW, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Pretty NSFW, Young Anahardt, anahardt, mentions of mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APizzaInTime/pseuds/APizzaInTime
Summary: Today they were battered and bruised, but hopefully one day they wouldn’t be.





	Shots In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! Hope you guys like your Anahardt, because that's all I think about recently. These two are just so precious. 
> 
> I like to think about how things panned out during their younger days, and that's how this idea came about. I like the idea of Ana being rather coquettish, so forgive me if she appears a little forward.
> 
> Also I can't think of a name for this??? If you can think of a better one let me know because I sat looking at my screen for like, an hour trying to think of one. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy I suppose. :)

Ana Amari left her room dark as the light faded from the sky over Watchpoint: Gibraltar, her tired eyes being able to adjust to the dark easily after all those nights up in pitch-black lofts staking out her enemies. It was just a few scratches, she thought as she carefully wrapped a wound on her forearm -- nothing to call the doctor over. She had dressed her own wounds before, and she was sure that Doctor Zeigler had a mess of other patients to deal with after the squadron’s last scrap with the Omnics. 

The light from a nearby outdoor post lamp cast onto a bed through an open door, where young Fareeha lay sleeping soundly. Morrisson and Reyes were more than happy to order Fareeha a smaller-sized bed when the time came to transition out of her crib -- especially since Fareeha noisily insisted on sleeping with her every night -- but the bed still dwarfed her daughter. It would take time for her to grow into it. Ana’s eyes fixated on the gentle rise and fall of the toddler’s chest, cooing a sigh while shifting to grab hold of her favorite fleece blanket. Tight in her small grip, the young girl burbled nonsense before relaxing her hands once more. 

Coming home to little Fareeha was one of the only things that made the world worth fighting for. If she ever lost hope in herself or her cause, the thought of Fareeha growing up in a world free of bloodshed made the fighting bearable. Through all the killing and all the war, knowing her daughter would not suffer the same fate as she had was enough to keep her going.

A searing pain shot up her arm and absent-mindedly, the captain let out a hiss and a stifled “son of a bitch” in her native tongue while unravelling the dressing and letting go of the new gauze. She surmised that this was why medical professionals spent all that time getting their degrees. Slowly, carefully, she strained her muscles to start over again, despite every ounce of her being struggling not to collapse against the wall and take a gamble at whether she’d make it until tomorrow.

A soft rapping at the door caused Ana to sit up straighter, the slightest bit surprised at the noise. Her grip on the wrapping slacked as she sluggishly rose from her seat, adjusting her shorts before hobbling to the door while muttering curses under her breath. With a soft click, she turned the knob and peeked through the opening, ready to squint into the light in the hall when she noticed the hulking frame of Reinhardt Wilhelm blocking its way. 

He, himself, looked a little worse for wear, his torso under his black tank top bandaged up tightly and his muscular arms already dotting with budding bruises. Reinhardt wasn’t the type to be bothered by that kind of thing, but she could tell by the look on his face that even he was in need of some well-deserved rest. 

“Ah, hello there Reinhardt.” Her voice came out mumbled while easing herself into a lean on the doorframe, her eyes panning over to the other room where her daughter continued sleeping. The crusader seemed to immediately understand her body language, composing himself even despite his injuries. 

“Ah, Captain --” he began, and she wanted to chuckle at his feeble attempt at a whisper. “I apologize for the poor timing, I didn’t mean…” His one blue eye refused to meet her gaze, but as his voice trailed off, she attempted reassurance. 

“It’s no trouble, Reinhardt.” She spoke softly, cracking a smile. “Come in, I’ll close her door.” 

The tips of her black hair brushed against his chest as she turned around to carefully make her way toward the door into her daughter’s room. Silently, she turned the knob before sliding it closed. In a few steps, she was seated back on the corner of her bed, taking care to pull over a chair for her guest. 

“Please, sit.” Before picking up the bandages once more, she gestured to the seat in front of her, and Reinhardt, after a moment, reluctantly obliged. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

The large man heaved a sigh as he relaxed in the chair, running a hand through his long blonde hair to push it away from his face. 

“I didn’t see you down in the medical bay when we returned to base.” he admitted with a good amount of weight in his voice. “I worried for your well-being, so I came up here to check if I needed to stay with little Fareeha for the evening while you were being treated.” 

Ana could feel the corners of her mouth turn up in a smirk; he was worried about her. Her long, thin fingers pressed a large piece of gauze to a particularly deep cut in her arm, sucking her teeth when it was met with a sharp stab of pain. 

“How thoughtful of you,” she mused, and it came out more sarcastic than she would have liked. “But really, I’m --” she hissed when a corner of the bandage snapped against a bruise on her other arm. “ -- I’m really all right. Just getting a few scratches patched up to save Doctor Zeigler and the others a little time tonight. If the pain isn’t gone tonight, I’ll go in the morning for treatment.” 

A telling “heh” from Reinhardt was all she needed to let her know that he didn’t believe her. 

They remained quiet for a moment, Ana continuing to wrestle with her bandages until finally, she had fashioned a tight wrap around her forearm. A little messy, and perhaps it was a little bad for circulation, but for the time being, it would do just fine. Carefully, she admired her handiwork before presenting it to her companion with a “There. Not half bad.” 

Reinhardt nodded in agreement. 

“It was an arduous battle.” he hunched his shoulders, leaning over carefully as to not irritate his own wounds. “It is thanks to you that we were all able to make it out safely. Your marksmanship is impeccable as always, Captain.” 

The woman laughed under her breath, idly reaching for more bandages while a dull ache on her thigh reminded her to continue dressing her wounds. 

“Ah, you flatter me. You act like I was the only one fighting.” she chided, doing her best to hide her exhaustion, albeit badly. “And please, Reinhardt, as I’ve told you before -- you know you can call me Ana.” 

The light from the post lamp outside revealed the color that tinted Reinhardt’s cheeks at her response, embarrassed that he’d forgotten.

“Ah, yes,” he recalled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with one of his large hands. “My apologies. It is a habit of mine.”

She ripped a piece of gauze off of the spool and carefully dotted it with peroxide.

“Understandable -- augh…” 

Reinhardt unconsciously leapt to his feet at her groan of displeasure, unsure of what to do but willing to assist wherever he could. Ana couldn’t help but return a look of amusement as the throbbing from the cleaning agent on her leg wound tapered off in favor of a dull sting. 

“Calm down, you silly man, I’m fine.” She motioned for him to return to his seat, and after she watched his eyes hover over the scrape on her leg for a few moments, he did so. She couldn’t help but think that he might be admiring her too, but that thought dispelled itself quickly. 

“Your injuries are worse than you think.” His voice came after a start, slightly raspy after trying to whisper for so long. She could hear the chair drag across the floor in his attempt to get closer to her. “Are you sure you do not want me to call for Doctor --” 

“It’s quite all right, Reinhardt.” She interrupted, hiking up the left leg of her shorts in order to get a better look at the clotted scrape running up her inner thigh. “I’ve cleaned and patched myself up before. This isn’t going to stop me.” 

“Well, so have I, but…” 

“Bah,” she dismissed his concerned tone before wincing at the fire that lit once more as she placed the peroxide to her damaged skin. “Enough. I am fine.”

He said nothing else, but remained seated with her as she continued. 

Ana Amari was never usually one for conversation, but even as she continued cleaning her wounds, even she longed for something to say. She could already feel Reinhardt’s disapproving look boring into her as she detached another piece of gauze from the spool, discarding the bloodied one into the trash. 

She pulled more bandages from her roll, laboring her breathing to carefully lift her leg and hastily place the abrasive material underneath. Her leg, however, could hold out no longer, and she placed it down again, blood pounding in her ears to match the agonizing throbs of pain from her injury. 

Ana leaned back on her hands to take a moment to breathe, looking up at the ceiling as if the throbbing, like heat, would move up and out of her. Perhaps it was worse than she thought. Adrenaline had the power to do that to you, she guessed -- and with peroxide acting as lighter fluid, she wasn’t so sure that she’d be able to sleep tonight. 

“Let me help, then.” 

His voice was soft as it reached over to grab the roll of bandage that she had rested in her lap. Wordlessly, one hand lifted the gauze to graze her inner thigh, sending a pulse electrifying up her spine, but with pain or pleasure, she wasn’t sure. The other held tight to the inside of the crook of her knee, elevating it just so to make the pain evaporate as he continued, replaced with a different kind of heat that exploded forth from his touch. His large fingers were surprisingly deft, able to skillfully wrap the bandage around her thigh without so much as a misstep -- clearly he had done this before. His touch was so gentle, despite the calluses from brandishing such a large weapon -- it sent surges of something like warmth spiraling up her spine, almost akin to Doctor Zeigler’s biotic healing stream. 

Pleasure. The feeling was most certainly pleasure.

As soon as it had come, though, the moment was gone, leaving her skin feeling cold and empty as he carefully replaced her leg back onto the bed. It was lucky that the room was dark, she figured -- better that he not see her face so flushed. 

He had not fared much better, though, as through the darkness she was able to witness his slightly staggered breathing before he slumped back into his seat. Whether it was from the situation they found themselves in or the injuries his torso had sustained, she couldn’t be positive, but with her leg now properly bandaged, she was in the clear either way.

“Ah,” she mused, running her fingertips along the patch job he’d just done and trying to hide a wince when she accidentally pressed a bit too hard. “Nice work. I must say, Wilhelm, if you weren’t such an asset to us in battle, I would say you should take up a living as a medical professional -- your bandaging skills are extraordinary. Not to mention your very attentive bedside manner...”

He chuckled, averting his eye and pretending not to watch her comb a few fingers through her raven locks.

“It is nothing.” He said plainly, rapping his fingers against his knees. “I am happy to be of assistance to you.”

Her fingers fell to continue brushing methodically up and down her leg, while keeping her pose casual, yet suggestive -- leaving the ball in his court, so to speak. She kept her eyes trained on his until they broke eye contact and with that, a single cognisant thought, one not tainted with the pleasures of the flesh, floated to the surface.

Just what on Earth was she doing? 

With how many injuries they had both sustained, that was what she was thinking about? And clearly she was making him uncomfortable -- his eye looked everywhere but at her, his face rather pale, even in the warm glowing light coming in from the window. 

Without warning, the crusader stood in such a way that must have aggravated his injured back, but if it did, he didn’t show it. He turned, glancing over at the closed door to Fareeha’s room. 

“Well,” he managed after a beat, “it is rather late. I should be going back to my quarters before they notice I am gone too long. Gute nacht, Captain -- er, Ana.”

Ana pursed her lips on the side of her face, knowing that his departure was more than likely her fault, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. The woman nodded, carefully folding her good leg underneath her. 

“Gute nacht, Reinhardt.” She returned, managing a slight smirk. 

If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought she saw him hesitate before he hastily left the room, closing the door behind him with a near-silent click. 

And so she was alone again -- alone in a dark room, one part aroused, one part ashamed, and about a million parts in no good shape to be either. The silence permeated the room, filling every nook and cranny until Ana felt almost suffocated by its presence. She looked down at her newly bandaged leg and cracked a slight smile, despite herself. Well, she mused, at least it would be a memory to revisit.

It took a few seconds to will herself to her feet, deciding that she would change for bed. She managed to move to her dresser to grab an old t-shirt from the slightly-ajar top drawer, gritting her teeth through a dull ache as she lowered her arms to pull at the bottom of her shirt --

Anyone else would have leapt three feet in the air upon the door swinging open again, light flooding into the room and combating the dark silence that had occupied it. But as Reinhardt stood flustered In the doorway, chest heaving in air, Ana’s face simply flickered up to meet his gaze, leaving her body half way exposed from lifting her shirt.

She could feel his eyes on her, giving her a once-over, and the fire inside her that dwindled moments ago sparked to life in full force. He came back. What other reason could he have to come back if not that --

She didn’t have to wonder too much longer, as he clumsily shut the door behind him, determinedly stepping over to her and colliding his face with hers. Immediately she lifted her hands to wrap around his neck, every fiber of her being sent spiraling into submission by the taste of his lips against hers. Eagerly, he grabbed at her waist, one large arm enveloping her while the other rose to cradle the back of her head, mussing up her hair but oh god did it feel good --

She pushed at him to close the space between them, her mouth too happily occupied for her to tell him to move them to the bed. Luckily, she didn’t need to; he lifted her gently and laid her down in one swift motion, only breaking their kiss when he moved to straddle over top of her small form. 

Her hand made contact with his neck, causing him to emit a low growl of pleasure. Upon hearing that, she wanted him to take her right then and there, but she postponed the instinctual response enough to ask him a question. 

“Why…” she started, breathlessly, both of them leaning into each other. “What made you come back…?”

It took him a moment to respond -- she could tell from his glazed eye and his dazed expression that he probably couldn’t imagine that they were doing what they were doing either. 

“It was the German.” He admitted, eliciting a raspy chuckle from her. “Mostly it was touching you and watching your fingers in your hair in the dark but…” he took a moment to draw in a deep breath and run his tongue along his bottom lip. “But I have never heard you speak German for me.”

It was all she needed to kiss him again, this time deeper, more passionately than before. He welcomed it heartily, keeping her pinned underneath him without placing his full weight on top of her. Full of desire, it took almost no effort for her to wrap her legs around his waist, holding her in place.

Soon, his hand became fixated with tracing up her side, lifting at the corner of her shirt as she had done not so long ago. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped from her throat upon feeling his fingers against her bare skin, and quickly she shed the article of clothing. His eye lit up with something she could not name at that moment, and he took to her immediately, tracing her neck and shoulders with kisses that set her skin ablaze.

“Oh, Ana…”, she could feel him moan her name into her chest, his body trembling slightly as he tried to keep himself quiet. She responded with a throaty laugh that immediately fell apart into an airy groan when his lips made contact to suck on her neck.

She noted how adept he was at pleasuring her, from the way he seemed to know her every response, to the way he ran his callused fingers along her body, to the way he almost laughed at her choked sighs when he teased playfully at her breasts. Multiple times she wanted to sing the praises of his fortitude, but every time the words fell from her mouth in broken gasps of Arabic. 

It wasn’t until she breathed out “I want to see you” that he quickly removed his shirt, exposing his chest, mostly wrapped with bandages but still ever avaliable for her to explore. She played her fingers across every one of his exposed muscles, committing every contour, every scar to memory. 

It wasn’t long before he’d had enough of their separation, and joined his mouth to hers once more. Their shared breath sent her mind swirling dizzily and it wasn’t until she felt his hips grind in between her thighs that she knew exactly what she wanted and --

\-- and she felt an indescribable, insurmountable amount of pain rip through the deep gash in her leg all the way up her spinal cord. 

It took everything she had not to cry out as loudly as she could then, waking her daughter and drawing the attention of everyone on the base. She did, however, writhe enough to catch Reinhardt’s attention, who immediately backed away from her to whisper if everything was all right. She recoiled into grabbing at her leg, driving her head into his chest before passing a loud, audible hiss through her tightly clenched teeth. 

“Ana!” came Reinhardt’s voice, soft and soothing, the pain slowly subsiding as he moved beside her on the bed. He grabbed tight to her hand and allowed her to squeeze, hoping it would somehow help the situation. Which it did, if only a little.

“Was it something I did?” He asked, once she had loosened her grip and her pained gasping had slowed significantly. 

She lay still for a moment and managed to laugh with the rest of her breath, which wasn’t much, but enough for her good nature to show through. 

“No, no,” she reassured, her voice heaving and heavy. She let go of his hand to run a few fingers through his blonde beard.” Nothing I didn’t want you to do anyway.” 

The crusader cracked a slightly wily smile, and she became more upset that she’d ruined the moment for herself a second time. 

“My leg,” she said, gesturing down to the patch job he’d done so well. “In our...haste, I must have strained it.”

Reinhardt lifted a hand to run his fingers idly across her bare stomach. 

“Ah.” He mumbled, and she wondered how someone with only one eye could keep the phrase “bedroom eyes” intact. “I guess my bedside manner was a little less gentle than you remember.”

“Perhaps so, but nevertheless attentive.”

He grunted in affirmation. 

They lay quiet for a moment, both taking in each other, realizing what they had been about to do, and what kind of feelings might have been associated with it. Reinhardt rarely lived in denial of anything, and the fact that he was smitten with Ana shone through every gesture and minute expression he partook in. That much she had deciphered a long time ago -- his total willingness to dedicate himself to Fareeha’s care, his worry over her both on and off the battlefield, their little back and forth quips that he seemed to linger on -- his heart beat for her with every breath he took, and to say she was flattered by it was a complete understatement.

Ana, while she continued to lose her hand in his long blonde hair, was more reserved on the matter. It was more than clear to her what her feelings toward Reinhardt were, but whether she would be ready or willing to embrace them was another story entirely. This was war, and her wounds interrupting their canoodling was only proof that war had the ability to tear the two of them asunder at any moment. She was already afraid enough of losing her daughter. Losing someone like Reinhardt, who was her lion, her knight...she wasn’t sure if she was willing to explore that very real kind of pain yet.

“Mmmh,” he rumbled, leaning his head into her hand, the light from the post lamp dappling and dotting his bare shoulder blade as rain began to tap against the window. “Maus, do you think we should…?” His voice tapered off, misplacing his words in his contentment. 

“...continue where we left off?” She finished for him, her eyes peering up to the window for a moment. She heaved her own half-tired, half-disappointed sigh. “I’m afraid it may have to at least wait until my leg is healed. I can’t imagine trying again would make it any less painful the second time.”

He chuckled, and although she could tell he was also a bit wistful, she was glad he understood. 

“Roger.” He nodded slightly, and leaned in to pull her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I shall hold you to it then.” 

Her leg thrummed with pain upon being dragged toward him, but it was an innocent enough gesture to get her to do her best to ignore it. 

The two remained in comfortable silence for a long while after that, what was once suffocating now an enveloping blanket that only retreated to let in the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against glass. 

Ana leaned in with a deep breath and closed her eyes, getting comfortable in his embrace. Today they were battered and bruised, but hopefully one day they wouldn’t be. 

“Asad,” she spoke after a moment, her words dripping with sarcasm already, “if you stay in here too long people are going to think we’re sleeping together.”

To her surprise, Reinhardt smiled, but didn’t laugh. His eye, sparkling with something caustic, caught hers. 

“Ah, well,” he said plainly, while wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think I have much choice in the matter.”

She raised an eyebrow. 

He gestured to his wrapped torso. 

“Doctor Zeigler’s medicine has worn off. I don’t think I can get up.”

Her grin stretched wide across her face. He might have been lying, but she couldn’t say her heart didn’t swell with something like hope. 

“Well then, I suppose you can stay.”


End file.
